


How Mac got Fat, Gay and an owner of the worst Gay Bar in Philadelphia

by pigeonstatueconundrum



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges during The Gang Gets Racist, Fat Mac, M/M, The Gang Still Own a Gay Bar, references to other episosodes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonstatueconundrum/pseuds/pigeonstatueconundrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to general incompetence, greed and alcohol The Gang end up keeping Paddy's as a Gay Bar. </p><p>That is the start of Mac's problems and he really can't be blamed for any of it. </p><p> </p><p>aka the Gang Still Own a Gay bar and God really need to get on with the smiting</p><p>CHAPTER 4 IS UP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dee Scams The Gang

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to biohazardgirl who beta'd for me and expertly and patiently put up with my fast and loose relationship with tenses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for homophobia in Mac's inner monologue.  
> Episode references in this Chapter, The Gang Get Racist, The Gangs Sells Out, How Mac Got Fat, 
> 
> Huge thanks to biohazardgirl who beta'd for me and expertly and patiently put up with my fast and loose relationship with tenses.

**Dee scams The Gang**

 

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last confession.”

 

He’d waited too long to come and confess, he knew that. Mac had just been so busy at Paddy’s recently and then Dennis had needed his support and after all of that it had taken a lot to summon the courage to step over the threshold.

 

God would forgive him his lateness though, Mac was pretty sure of that.

 

“Okay my son.” The Irish voice murmured. There was a shuffling of robes and a dry inhale from behind the screen. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit what is your confession?”

 

“My best friend made me gay.”

Mac squirmed against the hardback of the confessional. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable the seats were.  “And my other friends made me fat.”

 

There was pause.

 

“How did your friends make you fat and… gay?”

 

“Well you see Father it’s like this.”

***

 

It was hard to actually pinpoint the moment when the gang had ruined Mac’s life. His friends have always been like a loaded gun. The one Mac’s Drama teacher had always been going on about, named after the Star Trek guy. That if you saw that gun it meant it had to be fired. Mac friends were just waiting to shoot their load in his face.

But when do you identify the moment when the shot became inevitable: when the gun was bought? The bullets loaded? The barrel aimed?

 

Could it be the moment five year old Charlie Kelly had grinned at him with Stevie Kowalski’s blood staining his milk teeth as they were both marched to detention? Could it be the time the Aluminium Monster gave him a black eye with her geometry textbook when she caught him trying to stick fridge magnets to her back brace? Or was it when Dennis Reynolds stole his last cigarette after pulling Mac’s head from the toilet after friends of the former school dealer had shoved it there?

 

Perhaps Mac was giving their skills too much credit. Together the Gang could move mountains. But honestly, the majority of the time they were more likely to get distracted by fighting over who had the biggest molehill.

 

It really didn’t matter whose fault it really was, Mac was going to blame Dee.

 

If Mac had to choose the moment he really lost control, or rather his friends ruined everything, it would be the day after he and Denis had done tequila slammers until three in the morning. That morning the bar was mercifully quiet. The midday regulars who hadn’t been put off by the pride of gays drawn to Paddy’s by unprecedented good press seemed to fade into the décor more than usual. Mac was still hungover from the night before, every dull throb of his temples a reminder of a night he was desperately trying to forget. The smell of tequila was still in the air and sticky patches and shot glasses were still on the bar. There was the hint of lime that lingered on his lips and salt on the curve of his palm. But Mac was not thinking about last night. He dampened a rag and went back out to the main bar.

 

“So you’re okay with the whole gay bar thing?” Charlie asked, his scepticism subdued by his own hangover. His black eye was stark in the harsh neon of the bar and Charlie was still tentatively pressing at the swelling that seems to be going down.

 

“Yeah dude, it’ll be good for me to broaden my horizons,” Mac lied, trying to remove the evidence of the night’s revelry. There was no reason Mac shouldn’t go ahead with the plan just because of that phone call. Sure there had been some… improvisation at the end but it was still solid. It would be all worth it in the end.

 

“And really, the money is pretty sweet.” Mac added, that bit was true after all.

 

“So sweet.” Charlie agreed passing Mac a beer in the vain hope some more alcohol will be the solution to their suffering. At this point it couldn’t hurt.

 

“Where did you go last night anyway? I thought you were going to hang around after closing.”

 

Charlie drained his pint glass with a grimace, “Dee and I went out to this bar where the drinks are named after Disney characters. The napkins were even shaped like Mickey Mouse. Here I kept some.”

 

Charlie scrambled in his pocket; through experience Mac knew he’d be excavating in there for a long time. He was right. After about five minutes Charlie had produced a handful of rat poison pellets, a couple of olives, a piece of ribbon, some milk bottle tops, a receipt and finally the napkin he was hunting for.  It was indeed shaped like the famous mouse, although after its night in Charlie pocket it was hard to tell though the stains and dirt. As Charlie waved it as proof of the nights exploits, Mac noticed the inelegant handwriting across the front

 

“What’s this?” Mac pointed to the mixture of numbers and words left behind, “Did you get a girls phone number last night?”

 

“No.” Charlie shook his head emphatically, “I think this is Dee’s handwriting.”

 

Dee’s handwriting was, naturally, terrible at the best of times. But under the influence of five, what Charlie claimed were called, Bambi’s Mom’s, Mac was having difficulty deciphering any of it.  

 

“I think this says $200.” Mac read trying the next line. “Mitai.. no I think that’s a ‘c’. Micar.  My car. The next one looks like weebl snub?”

He finally recognized a word that looked indistinguishable from the rest but was actually a familiar port in a sea of badly scrawled gibberish. The penmanship was pretty unmistakable too.

 

“Charlie, I think you signed this.” Mac pointed to the word CAT at the tip of Mickey’s nose. Dee’s name was also there, Mac had just not noticed because the pen had leaked over her surname.

 

“Oh Shit dude.” The color drained from Charlie’s face. “That’s not weebl snub, that’s Meatball Sub. I sold my shares of the bar to Dee.”

 

“Why would you do that?” Mac shouted, immediately regretting the volume as the hammering in his head amplified.

 

“I don’t know! She kept talking and the drinks were so good. There was this Gus Gus drink that came with cheese and crackers and Dee kept buying them for me. These things just happen.”

 

“How does selling all your shares just happen?”

 

Mac knew Dee was pissed about not being able to vote on whether they kept Paddy’s as a gay bar or not.  Her mouth had gotten even more beak like puckered in anger while they were at the coffee shop yesterday. But he thought the whole reason she’d asked Mac to get Dennis blackout drunk was to get him to their side. Although finding out what she’d done with Charlie explained why she had tried to call the plan off, and after Mac had put so much work in. Just because Charlie could be easy to manipulate didn’t meant that Dee had the right to do so. That was low even for Dee. Mac had agreed to work with her on a noble cause, for the good of Paddy’s and its reputation as an Irish Catholic pub. Not only that, but for the spreading of God’s good and holy work on earth.

 

What was the world coming to, Mac thought? Charlie, selling his shares in the pub that was supposed to be a standing testament to their friendship. Dee, not only scheming behind all their backs but actually succeeding. Dennis, who from what Mac had seen last night might be…

 

Mac scrubbed harder at the tequila stain. He is not thinking about that.

 

God his head hurt. Mac wished that Charlie had the Meatball Sub now; some food might settle his stomach.

 

Hang on.

 

“Charlie.” Mac said slowly, drawing the napkin back towards him.  He tapped his finger on Charlie’s signature, remembering a hazy night a few months back.  

 

“You can’t sell your shares to Dee.”

 

Charlie shakes his head eyes wild, “No no. but I did. I signed it and everything, look. And Dee signed it too so that makes it a legal document and she could take me to court if I don’t honor our agreement and I’ll be left with nothing and then..”

 

“What I mean.” Mac interrupted. “Is that you can’t sell your shares because you haven’t got any. Don’t you remember? You sold a shit ton of your shares to me for half a sandwich.”

 

Charlie gave Mac a sceptical look, “I don’t remember that.”

 

“You totally did. “ Mac insisted. The details were becoming clearer, “So doesn’t matter what that napkin says. You have no shares to give Dee because you sold them to me.”

 

Their bickering was interrupted as Dennis walked into Paddy’s.

 

Mac tried to subtly study Dennis’ expression in the hope of working out if the plan had worked or if Dennis remembered anything from the night before. Because Mac certainly did not. No, nothing.  

 

Dennis looks well rested, hair and clothes neat with nothing out of place. The knuckles gripping his Starbucks cup were a little white and the bags under his eyes were covered in foundation but the picture as whole was so damnedly flawless Mac knew God would forgive Dennis for these little imperfections.

There was a white stain on waistband of Mac’s jeans; he tried to scrub at it with the damp rag without drawing Dennis attention. But Dennis noticed, like he always does and zeroed in on Mac with an easy smirk.

 

Mac’s head hurt and the smell of tequila was still there despite him cleaning bar and he really wanted a coffee. But Mac did it for the good of Paddy’s, for the glory of God and his own sanity. Guilt at this point was useless.

 

“Hey Bro, you okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course I’m okay.” Mac answered, gaze locked onto the bar and trying not to catch Dennis’ eye. A distraction came to him as he caught Charlie trying to move none too craftily towards the office and the freedom of the vents.  

 

“Charlie sold his shares of Paddy’s to Dee.”

 

Dennis attention mercifully switched to this new prey, “Well he can’t. You can’t, Charlie.”

 

“That’s what I said, because…”

 

Dennis shook his head imperiously, “You sold your shares to me.”

 

Charlie shifty expression increased as his jaw set stubbornly, caught in his escape and in a lie “I never…”

 

“You did.” Dennis insisted, Mac forgotten in favour of proving his point, “for my shoes”

 

“What the hell Charlie. A pair of shoes? You gave away shares to Paddy’s for that?”

 

“I’m buying my shares back.” Charlie insisted.

 

“With what?” Dennis asked, “You’ve got no money. You haven’t even owned cutlery since 1994.”

 

“I’ve got $200.” Charlie argued.

 

Mac shook his head, holding up the olive stained receipt that had been in Charlie’s pocket earlier, “Uh, no you don’t dude. You spent like all of that on roses. Look.”

 

He slipped the paper across the counter. Although to Charlie it was understandable as the Dead Sea scrolls as it was written in English and the pictograms and gibberish method Charlie favoured.

 

“Is this the waitress’s address?” Dennis said, recognizing the delivery address for the gardens worth of flowers.

 

Charlie grinned, the unhinged look of love in his eye. “Yes. Do you think she’ll like them?”

 

“I think you’ve earned another restraining order.” Mac suspected Charlie had also singlehandedly exhausted Philadelphia’s stock of red roses.

The door slammed open with an overly dramatic flourish. Dee stood in the doorway, triumph shining from her every pore. The sight of her and the reminder of the trouble she’d caused last night made Mac’s head hurt even more.

 

“Morning shit heads.” She sauntered over to the bar and sat the stool, grinning as she spotted the napkin/legally binding document on the bar.

 

“I see Charlie’s told you all. I now own a third of the bar.” Dee leaned back smugly. “Yup, there’s going to be some real changes happening around here. For too long you boners have pushed me around. It’s about time I got my own way.”

 

Dennis snorted. “That’s not happening Dee.”

 

“Oh yeah. Well screw you Dennis. I bought Charlie’s shares fair and square.” She grabbed the napkin and waved it self-righteously under her brother’s nose.

 

“Oh sure you bought Charlie’s shares,” Dennis agreed. “Pity he doesn’t have any shares to sell.”

 

“No,” Dee argued. “No, because you three bought the bar together that makes you joint partners.”

 

“Charlie sold half his shares for shoes,” Dennis smirked. “and the other half for, a sandwich, was it Mac?”

 

“Half a sandwich.” Mac corrected, feeling the tightness in his chest lessen; Dee’s triumphant expression faded as she saw her power disappear like so much dust in the wind.

 

“God dammit.” Dee screeched, her carefully constructed plan crumbling to nothing. “You sons of bitches. That’s not fair. I should get a say in the bar.”

 

“You own no shares Dee,” Mac replied. “Neither you or Charlie now get a say in the bar.”

 

“All partners in the pub, a vote on whether Dee should also do Charlie Work this week.”

 

“This month.” Mac corrected.

 

Dennis smiled at Mac sharing in Dee’s humiliation. The tightness was back around Mac’s chest. It was like a serpent wrapped delicately around him whispering sweet what ifs. But Mac could resist that particular temptation. It was only a sin if you took the fruit anyway. Even a quick touch was okay. Mac was pretty sure that that was even more praiseworthy because only someone with strong faith would be able to refuse temptation after experiencing it.

 

“Yes. This month. Those against?”  Dennis made a show of looking for opposition as Dee muttered mutinously under her breath.

 

“Those for?”  Mac and Dennis’ hands went in the air.

 

“Looks like you’re on toilet cleaning duty for the next month Dee.”

 

“God dammit. What the hell, Mac? I thought you were on my side.”

 

Oh shit. Charlie and Dennis stared at Mac with shared a shared disbelief that Mac would do something so stupid.  Dennis’ distrust was particularly cutting after their bonding as partners. Work partners, obviously. If Mac had been making deals with the known traitor then their moment would become hollow as Dee’s shares.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mac lied.

 

Dee looked ready to throw furniture. “Oh come on. You don’t want this place to be a gay bar any more than I do.”

 

Mac looked from Dennis and Charlie to Dee. “Well I…”

 

“Nah, Mac’s okay with it now.” Thank God for Charlie. Thank God, Jesus, and the holy mother for poor stupid Charlie who was quite cheerful as scrubbing the toilets was out of his itinerary.

 

“Yeah, I said that.” Mac hedged ignoring Dee’s entirely betrayed expression. Which was totally uncalled for; she’d betrayed him first. Mac had to get the plan back on track. He needed Dennis to disagree with the gay bar plan. Dennis would be able to argue Charlie down and then Mac would ‘reluctantly’ agree and everything would be back to normal.

 

“But only if everyone’s okay with it.” Mac tried not to look too eagerly at Dennis.

 

Charlie looked so confused, “Yeah, dude. We’re okay with it.”

 

“You don’t get a vote anymore,” Mac reminded him, holding up his hand to cut off the squawk of protest Dee was going to make. “Neither do you, bird. Sit down.”

 

“So Dennis. Unless you had any objections?”

 

Dennis shrugged and took a challenging swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving Mac’s, “Nope. Why would I?”  

Shit, oh shit.

 

How had his plan backfired? All that work down the fucking drain. Mac had jeopardised the purity of his immortal soul for that plan because stupid Dee had fucked him over, apparently so she could try and get one over on all of them. Mac had said it before and he’d say it again: this was all Dee’s fault.

 

“Really, are you sure?”

 

Dennis nonchalant side eye was all dare. “No, do you Mac?”

 

Oh shit, Mac thought, he does remember.

 

“No, No. I’m good. I’ve got no reason to change the Paddy’s back.”

 

Dennis smirk was dripping with honey and victory. The serpent thumped against Mac’s breastbone, reaching towards the venom of his smile.   But Mac was not thinking about it, he wasn’t. Because the others were looking between the two of them now and all it would take is for Charlie to be in one of his weirdly perceptive moods or Dee to tune into some weird twin wavelength and then he would have to think about it.  

 

“Of course, I mean it would be hypocritical if we stopped now. Right Mac?”

 

“Yeah.” Mac muttered through clenched teeth.

 ****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I was going to write this a while back. I hope you enjoy it and that it is worth the wait.
> 
> as always comments are much appreciated and I'm here http://pigeonstatueconundrum.tumblr.com/


	2. The Gang Finally Tip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for Mac's homophobia,   
> episode references; the Gang get racist, Sweet Dee gets audited, How Mac got fat,   
> As always HUGE thank to biohazardgirl for beta'ing this and putting up with my Briticisms and inability to stick to a tense

“I’m not quite following you son?”

 

Mac sighed. Dennis had said this would be a bad idea and he’d been right, as usual. Why hadn’t Mac believed him?

 

“What is there to get. All this,” Mac motions to his impressive body mass, now forever tainted with gayness. Although, if he thinks about it, the priest can’t see that he is gesturing through the screen. “is my friends fault because they were too busy trying to screw over each other and not caring about helping me maintain the Christian sanctity of our bar.”

 

“I don’t I understand how that made you fat.” The Priest says, “Did they force-feed you?”

 

“No, worse than that. They drove me to it”

 

The Priest is just not getting it; he’s going to have to explain further, “Alright, you see because they opened our bar to all the sinners of Philadelphia we became successful. And that meant we couldn’t change things.”

 

Mac remembers the day he and Charlie argued about the shamrocks as the final straw.

 

Business had been good, insanely good. They’d paid the mortgage on time for the first time in a year and had wanted to celebrate. But they couldn’t because there was customers who all wanted drinks, and to sit and chat and stare at Dennis. Stupid gay sinful customers who kept wanting to smile at Dennis and laugh and complement him. Which was terrible from a solely business perspective because it slowed down Dennis’ bartending and meant he wasn’t listening to any of the Gang, especially his business partner/roomate/blood brother. It was just bad for Paddy’s in the long run, Mac had insisted to Charlie. Charlie had just rolled his eyes and continued chopping limes like a demon.  

 

They had never had a problem with slow service before all this. When Dee was the sole waitress service had never been great, but it had been consistent. One customer had referred to it as a rare mix of incompetence, disinterest and rage that made the nine circles of hell look like the tea cup ride at Disneyland; and he was probably more likely to get served alcohol in the Magical Kingdom than Paddy’s anyway. The only silver lining was that at least now Dee was so pissy because none of the men were hitting on her, something that never happened anyway, that she wouldn’t do her terrible comedy. The stuff with the stupid voices and the squawking that she always did when they had more than three paying customers in the bar.  

 

The gay crowd loved her though because, as Mac has already said, they were stupid. They found her sour desperation incredibly entertaining and took to ordering fancy drinks in escalating complexity just to get her angry. That night she poured grenadine over a man with the most beautifully coiffed ginger beard and threatened to set him on fire in a fit of temper. He had scuttled out of the door before she could find a lighter, certainly regretting telling the waitress her Buttery Nipples weren’t dirty enough. The crowd assembled round the bar had actually clapped instead of finding heavy flame retardant furniture to hide behind like the sensible regulars always did. She preened after that and made Mac miss the sulkily mood Dee had been in before, At least then she hadn’t been cracking her knuckles and badly telling sex jokes.

 

But yeah, they had wanted to celebrate being solvent for once. Even as they had handed the envelope over to the shocked cashier at the bank, Mac had felt a strange unease. Were they becoming the sort of people who paid their bills on time? Were they now the sort of people that thought about long term prospects and investments? The type who cared about whole wheat and if couch cushions matched the wallpaper?

 

Was Mac becoming that sort of person? He’d always assumed Dennis would end up that way someday. In some crystal ball future Dennis’d be dragged into caring about wicker and the price of milk by achieving that American Dream family he’d always wanted. Mac tried not think about where he would be in that future. Would he fit in between the edges of Dennis Junior’s little league games and Book Club with the neighbours? Trying to answer that nagging question late at night just made the space between his beating heart and Dennis’ snores, low and reassuring in the next room, seem further and further away. Drawn westward in the eddies of some invisible tide while Mac was finding it harder and harder to tread water.

 

But that’s just another thing not to think about.

 

So it about three in the morning and the last customer had left. They couldn’t even set Charlie with the leaky fire hydrant on these new patrons because they thought it was all a silly game. These gays thought Charlie was some feral creature dragged up by wolves in the fairy tale forests of Philadelphia. That wasn’t an unfair assessment but it annoyed Mac that they saw Charlie as the muscle of the Gang.  Every day it felt like Mac was becoming more and more useless to the operation.

 

Anyway, The Gang had finally gotten to pouring drinks for themselves rather than serving them to those lousy sinners. The night had been long and busy but despite their weariness the novelty of a full till hadn’t worn out and the others were excited. Dennis was positively glowing, the neon bar lights caressing his bare arms. He’d started wearing sleeveless tops to work. The new customers seemed to enjoy that. It was disgusting how they drooled over him, Mac thought, taking a particularly violent drag of his beer.

 

The success of the bar was all they could talk about. after a few drinks it was hard for Mac to resist being tugged into their enthusiasm.

“If I’d known selling to the gays was so good we’d  have done it ages ago.” Dennis grinned, waving his nights tips under his sisters turned up nose.

 

“We should do more.” Charlie suggested.

 

Mac’s suspicions rose, “Like what?”

 

“Maybe Terrell was right and we should get rid of some of the Irish stuff.”

 

That was too far. “No way dude. Paddy’s is an Irish Catholic Bar. You take down one shamrock over my dead body.” Mac insisted crossing his arms. With his muscles on display, Charlie would have to concede to Mac dominance. Unfortunately Charlie didn’t get the message.

 

“Well it’s that or the religious crap.” Charlie argued. “Why the hell did you put that Crucifix in the bar dude?”

 

Mac glanced at the icon of his Lord and Saviour on the back of the bar. The sight of Jesus on the cross was supposed to remind those trespassers what their sins had done.  Those perfectly formed abs taut and bloody holes should make them think twice before looking with lust upon, for random example, the bartender. The effect, Mac had to admit, was lessened somewhat by the colourful strings of Mardi-Gras beads and the feather boa draped around it.

 

“The cross stays.” Mac was firm. He would not be swayed. Mac Macdonald stood his ground. “It is an important part of what Paddy’s stands for god dammit.”

 

“Paddy’s doesn’t stand for anything Bro.” Dennis interrupted, leaning towards Mac with a smirk. He’d been doing that more often. It was starting to freak Mac out a bit.

 

It was getting to the point where he was starting to question their friendship. There was a certain level of closeness that happened with your best friend. You can’t share a home, your work, or your life with someone and not expect there to be a physical part of the relationship. That’s how men were. Why would you say how you felt about someone when actions speak louder than words? Women wouldn’t be as mean and bitchy all the time if they could punch each other. Honestly, Mac was sure he and Dennis had a good thing going on by talking through touches.

 

But there had to get to a point when all the touching became, well, a bit gay. Especially how Dennis kept talking about how much sexier he could look. Mac had been minding his own business eating the Ben and Jerry’s he’d found in the fridge and Dennis had started talking about how Mac had let himself go recently. Mac couldn’t be in peak physical prowess all the time, especially when he was the only one looking out for the moral integrity of the bar.

 

And there really was no way to ask ‘hey dude you remember that night where we got so drunk on Tequila slammers and I got that phone call from Dee and…’ without using his words like a girl. There should really be a word for getting drunk enough to forget parts of a night but not all of it. Mac was all about plausible deniability right now.

 

And Dennis still stared at him. He’d put on mascara a lot more recently and it just made his judging eyes look all the more piercing.

 

“Can we at least take off the feather boa off him?” Mac pleaded, hating the whining note that had entered his voice.

 

“I like it.” Dee said, fluffing up the feathers and setting it at a jauntier angle, “If anything this place should be gayer.”

 

Dennis actually looked like he was considering it, “You want to throw some more glitter around, rainbow up the shamrocks, that sort of thing?”

 

“I do Dennis I do.” Dee grinned. Mac really didn’t like this. Visions of candy coloured stripper poles and bubble machines (they had those at gay clubs he was pretty sure). The bad taste in the back of his throat tasted like dry communion wafers.

 

“We can’t do that.” Mac insisted in the hope of steering the conversation back to safer waters. “If we change anything we risk re-tipping?”

 

There was a collective noise of confusion.

 

“You know tipping?” blank faces all around, “Yeah, It happens in business all the time. You keep making the right decisions and eventually you will get to point where you tip and become successful.”

 

Mac smiled as his wisdom was mulled over by the rest of the Gang. It felt good to be listened to after the week he’d had.

 

“I can totally buy that.” Charlie nodded. “I mean I’ve always done an amazing job keeping this place clean. People respect a clean bar.”

 

“And the crowd love the butch cocktail waitress thing I’ve been doing.” Dee added, “I’m like the short one from Cheers. Did you see me threaten to light that boner on fire? they loved it.”

 

Discounting that last one, Mac was enthused by his friend’s agreement, “Sure, Those people don’t come here for bright lights and good looking guys.”

 

“Oh I think they do.” Dennis smirked, Mac was going to ignore that. He was on a roll.

 

“They come here,” he resumed with a pointed look at Dennis who just grinned, “For the ‘Paddy’s Experience’. The historical atmosphere, the good beer and the terrible service.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Shut up Bird.”

 

“You know I think you’re onto something.” Dennis said thoughtfully. Mac watched his fingers as he idly played with the feather boa, wrapping one end around his wrist. Dennis had nice hands. Mac always heard the girls he took home say so. A red feather came loose and landed on the bar.

 

“That means we can’t change anything.” Mac insisted, drawing the feather close. “If we change even the smallest thing the dynamic changes and we’ll re-tip.”

 

“So we should carry on as normal?” Charlie asked.

 

Mac grinned, now they were getting it. “Yes. However psychotic and crazy that may be.”

“What are you looking at me for?” Dee muttered.

 

“So I should keep on bartending then?” Dennis asked, overly innocent.

 

“Sure.” Mac said through gritted teeth.

 

“I’ll keep on talking to the customers, like I’ve been doing already. ”

 

Mac looked down at his hands, the feather in his hands had been reduced to a naked looking shaft and a handful of downy fluff blown around his feet.

 

“I mean if you don’t want us to re-tip…” Dennis said slowly.

 

“Nothing should change.” Mac insisted, biting his lip.

 

Dennis smile was all triumph. And that wasn’t fair. It felt like they’d been playing a friendly game of one on one basketball but now Dennis was playing Chess while using Mac’s heart has a punching bag. And he hadn’t told Mac the rules had changed. Dennis just expected Mac to keep up, like he always does, pulled in his current like a fish caught in a six pack ring. The only thing Mac could  do is keep on pretending they are still playing one on one basketball and try and learn the rules. Because if he doesn’t, does he really deserve to be Dennis’ friend?

 

Things escalated. Which Mac would usually be fine with because it was part of their sweet dynamic but this time it really wasn’t working. Dee was too busy trying to look cool in front of the customers. Her singing had driven away those with weak stomachs and her dry retching had driven away the rest. No one could find Charlie for half a day until someone noticed the smell of gas from the basement. Charlie had moved up his annual gassing of the rats to that morning, instead of waiting for the health inspectors visit, and had nearly killed himself.

 

At least Jesus had lost his feather boa. Unfortunately it was around Dennis’ neck to hide a hickey . The DENNIS system, it seemed, did not see gender or sexuality. Which was all very well and good, but the grunting from the parade of degenerates coming through their home was not helping Mac sleep. Especially as his rest was interrupted by thoughts that he really wasn’t up for analyzing right now. Mac found his ever growing list of things not to think about harder to ignore with proof shoved in his face like that.

 

Mac had to admit he was losing control of the situation. He could just imagine the Gang’s judgment when it came to apportioning the blame when this was all over. Mac was supposed to be the Sheriff of Paddy’s. John Wayne or Clint Eastwood would never let their deputies experiment with flammable shots, or let a fight get out of hand just because the customers were betting on the outcome. No, a good Sheriff should be in control and strike fear in the hearts of sinners and innocents alike. And Paddy’s didn’t exactly have many innocents lying around what with all the gays filling the place. A strong Sheriff was needed to keep this place in order more than ever.

 

Mac couldn’t use fancy words to get people do what he wanted the way Dennis could. Mac was certain Dennis could walk into a room get the hottest girl, the coolest drink and the best seat in the house without even trying. He didn’t have Charlie’s volume either. When Charlie screamed people tended to move quickly or else put down any glass object the sound could shatter. Even Dee could get people to do what she wanted in her own way. No one could take constant rejection and build it to a stubborn anger like Dee could.

 

All Mac had was his muscles and his sweet karate moves, but now that didn’t seem like enough. Ever since Paddy’s had become a gay bar it was filled with large muscled guys whose voices and body mass seemed to take up the whole room. When he looked in the mirror in the morning, all Mac could see was a skinny little twink who didn’t have a hope of keeping the peace. Dennis’ comments questioning Mac’s sexiness were also not helping. Mac knew he would never achieve that ripped look Dennis appreciated but being reminded of it when he was just trying to eat in peace, hurt.

 

Dennis was oblivious to Mac’s turmoil. He was serving drinks for a man whose black tank top strained gorgeously against his muscles. The customer ignored Dennis’ flirty smile in favour of sipping his beer. Mac watched as Dennis looked momentarily taken aback by the stranger’s disinterest. Perhaps if I was more like that guy, Mac thought, Dennis wouldn’t say I wasn’t sexy.

 

Mac could see why Dennis might find that man attractive though;he was good looking guy. He was tall and thickset with a beard more at home on an advert for Canadian Lumber than a Philadelphian bar. Despite that, the stranger moved through the crowd with a confidence Mac envied.  There was something shark-like about him, not in the way he moved, but in the way the other customers reacted.  Some shifted out of the way, some avoided eye contact, and a brave few smiled back.

 

With one last look at Dennis, Mac downed his drink and walked over to the customer’s table.

 

“Hey.”

 

The stranger looked up and smiled, “Hey yourself.”

 

Mac sat down with his back purposefully faced to the bar. It didn’t help; he could feel Dennis’ eyes as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He focused on the man in front of him instead.

 

“I’m Mac.”

 

“I know.” The strangers smiled, slow and intrigued. His voice was a deep rumble that made you listen intently to catch every word. “You own this place.”

 

Mac grinned, tempted to let the lie stay and grow him in the eyes of the stranger. But then he remembered what sort of bar he would be pretending to fully own.

 

“No, well. I own like half of this place.” Mac admitted, trying for nonchalance as he gestured expansively to the bar.

 

“Like half?” the other man asked. His smirk made Mac want to do something stupid, something worth confessing. A few of the other bar patrons seemed to look their way, eyes darting quickly before settling back into their drinks as if they never moved. Mac ignored them. These gay guys were so weird.

 

Mac nodded. “Our other business partner sold his shares to me for half a sandwich and to Dennis for a pair of shoes. We’re not sure who should get the majority.”

 

“Does that sort of thing often happen here?” he inquired. It was strange to be asked that by someone who wasn’t from the police, fire brigade or coroner’s office.

 

“Not really. It only happened then because Dee tried to buy Charlie’s shares.”

 

The stranger looked curious, “She’s the bartender right. The one that threatened to set Carl on fire.”

 

Mac nodded eagerly, “Yeah. Was he a friend of yours?” Now that Mac thought about it he could remember this guy had been there that night. He’d been whispering in the ear of Dee’s victim, playfully squeezing the other man’s hip. Mac’s mind recalled the besotted look in Carls’ eyes as he’d looked up at that daring smirk.

 

The stranger looked like he was fondly recalling that night too. “Something like that.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Does she threaten to burn people ‘so hard that they’ll need dental records to find them’ a lot?”

 

Mac shrugged, “She threatens death and destruction as much as anyone really. Dennis told me she set fire to her roommate once.”

 

“Okay.” The man held up his hand to cut Mac off, his smile has gotten wider. He surveyed Paddy’s with a strange light in his eyes. It was the same look Dennis got when he saw drunken college girls had stumbled into the bar.  “You are going to tell me that story later. First though you are going to tell me why you came over.”

 

“Oh,” Mac had nearly forgotten why he was there. The stranger’s concentration had been absorbing. With Dennis bitching all the time it was nice to be the centre of someone’s attention for once. “I want to ask you about body mass.”

 

“Body mass?”

 

Mac gestured to his new drinking partner, “Yeah Dude. You know. Muscles, weight, and all that.”

 

The other man duly followed Mac flailing hands to consider his own physique. Mac took the excuse to openly stare at the heavier frame and muscled thighs before he looked back up to meet a flirtatious smile.

 

“You’re into the Musclebears then?” he grinned and lent forward predatorily.

 

Oh shit. “I don’t know what that means. I’m not gay.”

 

“Sure thing cupcake.” He didn't rest back in his chair though but continued to lean towards Mac conspiratorially. “So what do you want to know about ‘body mass’?”

 

This was embarrassing. Mac whipped his head around the bar as covertly as possible. He didn’t want the others to hear this. They’d only read it the wrong way, as usual. Dee was at the bar trying to look for cocktail umbrellas to put in brightly colored drinks. Charlie was surrounded by a group of bar patron who were cheering as he stuffed Limes into his mouth. Money was being exchanged. Mac hoped Charlie was getting a cut of the winnings and wasn’t just doing it to prove that you couldn’t choke on thick limes (because he’d be wrong because you can god damn it).  Mac finally caught sight of Dennis in the doorway of the office. He looked pissed off at something so Mac forced his gaze not to linger. Dennis was probably angry at him anyway. The stranger also saw Dennis’ thunderous expression and smiled over at him, raising his empty beer bottle in a toast. That was nice of him, Mac thought.

 

“I just wanted to know how you did you it. Put on body mass.”

 

The other man scratched his beard thoughtfully as he considered Mac. “You want to put on ‘body mass’? You want to look like me?”

 

Mac refused to be embarrassed by this. He needed to keep the peace in Paddy’s because Dee had ruined everything and opened the gates to the sinners of Philadelphia. This man was going to help him. When he looked across the table Mac tried to keep his mind resolutely on Jesus and the crucifix behind him. God was his refuge and strength. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil’. The other man looked at Mac in expectation of an answer and he could not remember the rest of the verse. It was something about a rod and a staff comforting, maybe.

 

“Sure. I’m doing pretty well on my own obviously.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“But a few pointers would be cool.”

 

“Hmmm.” The other man hummed like a scientist surveying an experiment.  He reached across the table and lifted up Mac’s chin, his fingers stroking Mac’s jackrabbit pulse.  From behind them Mac heard a pair of loud voices and the office door slam. The stranger just smiled like a hypothesis had just been proven correct. The other patrons, who were definitely not watching them, muttered amongst themselves.

 

“You’ve got working out, one hour intensive training, weight lifting, that sort of thing.” He ran his palm down Mac’s neck to rest on his chest. Mac suppressed a shiver. “But I feel you already work out. Good looking guy like yourself.”

 

Mac preened.

 

“There are supplements and powders you should try. Or simply just eating more.” The man said, his hand was loosely resting against Mac’s hip. “I could help you with that, if you want?”

 

“Really. That would be so awesome dude.” Distantly he heard Mac heard Dennis and Dee fighting from inside the office. He ignored it, just as he was ignoring the sound of Charlie coughing up limes in the alley outside.  

 

Mac’s new friend languidly looked over in the direction of the shouting. “I’ll come over here tomorrow afternoon and show you.”

 

“Awesome, how about...”

 

“Hey.”

 

Mac looked up startled to see Dennis. He was red faced from shouting, his fists clenched and brows covered in sweat. The strangers green eyes glittered in the neon bar lights as he took Dennis in. That permanent smirk was still fixed on his lips, although Mac could understand why. Denis was still wearing the feather boa. The hand was still languidly rubbing circles against Mac’s hip.

 

Mac smiled up at Dennis brilliantly. “Dennis. Hey Bro. you okay?”

 

The fire in Dennis’ eyes seemed to dim as he smiled back at Mac. “I’m…good. Who are you?” he demanded. His hand landed on Mac’s shoulder and squeezed.

 

“Dennis this is…” oh shit. He turned to the guy with a sheepish expression nearly dislodging Dennis’ hand, “Sorry Dude, I never asked your name.”

 

“That’s okay sweetie.” He assured Mac pleasantly. “It’s Grant.”

 

“Dennis this is Grant.” Mac introduced. “Grant this is Dennis, he’s my business partner.”

 

“And roommate.” Dennis added, a bit redundantly Mac thought.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you both.” Grant said. He stood up using Mac’s other shoulder to balance. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow Mac.” He promised.

 

After Grant left Dennis didn't really speak to anyone. He ignored Dee. He didn't flirt with the customers. When Charlie finally finished throwing up he didn't even shout at him for the mess he’d made in the bathroom. He didn't talk to Mac but he did look at him. He stared at Mac a lot. Mac straightened the crucifix, finally taking the Mardi Gras beads off from around Jesus’ neck. He absentmindedly put them on, for safe keeping, and got to work behind the bar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter. all comments and kudos etc are much appreciated. As always I'm here if you want to chat - http://pigeonstatueconundrum.tumblr.com/


	3. Dennis Loses His Groove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for homophobia in Mac's inner monologue, misuse of the term 'body positivity', canon typical drug use,  
> Episode references in this Chapter, The Gang Get Racist, How Mac Got Fat, The DENNIS System, The World Series Defense,
> 
> as always huge thanks to biohazardgirl for betaing :)

“Are you trying to say that you had sexual relations with that man?” The priest asked, his voice strained, “Also are you eating in there?”

 

“Mac swallowed, “I’m missing lunch.” He explained, “This is taking far longer than I thought it would.”

 

There was an angry pause, Mac peered through the screen and saw the Priest had his head in his hands.

 

“And no of course I didn’t have sex with Grant.” Mac said, “He didn’t make me gay. I told you my friends did. That’s why they need absolving.”

 

“I still don’t see how your friends are to blame?” the Priest sighed.

 

“Well you see everything was going okay until Dennis refused to help Charlie kidnap the Philly Phrenetic.”

 

Charlie’s foiled abduction attempted happened around the time interest in Paddy’s had settled. To Mac’s secret joy, numbers had died down a little. The curious and those with weaker stomachs had given up on coming long ago. Those left tended to be a bit tougher. They were not put off by religious iconography, blood or Dee singing “I Will Survive” on the Karaoke Machine.  But come Friday night. Paddy’s was heaving with party goers pre-loading before heading out to the clubs.  For the first time they had to get Charlie to turn on the AC because the crush of perspiring bodies was enough to warrant its use. Mac was sure Charlie had developed a Pavlovian response to the smell of Axe body spray to turn the fan up. They had groups coming in fancy dress too. Most weekends there were usually party or two, usually dressed as Nuns which Mac could only attribute to the positive influence of the Crucifix behind the bar.

 

He’d tried to give Jesus’s wounds another coat of paint but Charlie had gotten the wrong colour. Mac had arrived to find Charlie sitting in the open doorway surrounded by cats with orange spray paint on the tip of his nose, his Lord and Saviour looking like an emaciated Guido. Mac would have tried to get the paint off but Grant had arrived with a group of his friends dressed as the Power Puff girls. Grant’s friends always seemed captivated by Charlie’s abilities to ingest, huff, and drink anything. His ability to attract cats was no exception. Mac would be worried but he’d seen Charlie survive worse. They couldn’t throw anything at Charlie that could be as bad as high school. Charlie enjoyed the attention anyway. When he’d finally woken up he’d taken a few out to the back alley to find more cats. When Dee and Dennis came back from the Cash and Carry there was a circle of men in miniskirts stroking feral street cats with Charlie sitting in the middle with a huge spaced out grin on his face.

 

During the week things tended to slow down. Mac was sure even the bars in Sodom and Gomorrah must have had quiet days. The growth in customers didn’t stop the Gang from getting into jams. There were still people to scam, and bums to fight, and violence to threaten. Strangely it seemed that the bar was at its most busy when a plot was reaching its climax. For example there had been far too many people who came to see Dee’s friend Artemis’ show. Only the morning before Mac had been telling Grant about how Dee had teared down all the posters she could find in a jealous rage so no one would come. But there had been over fifty people in the bar watching Artemis Dubois one woman retelling of The Shawshank Redemption, although what they ended up watching was Dee fighting with Artemis in the paddling pool that was supposed to represent the sewage escape pipe. Mac had asked Grant if he knew why people had come but he’d just smiled mysteriously.

 

Grant smiled like that a lot, especially when Mac was describing the finer details of that week’s plan. It was nice to be really listened to for once, even if Grant did spend a lot of the time when Mac was explaining group texting on his phone. Grant and his friends always seemed to be there when plans blew up in the Gangs faces. They never got involved in what was going it. They weirdly seemed happy to watch from the sides.

 

Mac hated to admit it, but he was warming to the new customers. Mac was still certain they were all heading to hell but at least they appreciated his superior body mass acquisition. Mac didn’t need them to tell him how good he looked but it was nice to hear. Paddy’s had been in precarious position between utter hellish chaos and righteous calm. As soon as Mac started putting on weight he’d noticed the difference immediately. Instead of laughing at his attempts to stop arguments they now smiled at him and touched his arm. Mac would naturally be freaked out by the touching but honestly, he couldn’t blame them.

 

There was something right about the way he felt in his skin. Dee had tried to make a joke about how they should call him ‘bird’ with the way he got distracted by his reflection in shiny surfaces. Because it was a joke made by Dee everyone ignored it but perhaps there was some truth in it. Something about the way Mac’s belly strained against his t-shirt and the way his tattoos looked imposing on his thicker forearms that made him feel like he could take on the world. Mac hadn’t felt like that since high school. Back then nothing in the world had felt impossible. The last time he’d felt like that was the night he and Dennis had gotten high for the first time. The sight of that boy lying next to him had made Mac want to swim to Europe, fight Predator, or win a karate competition with an arm tied behind his back. Now he had the body mass to do that and more. If only Dennis could see that.

 

Disappointingly, Dennis was very ungrateful about the whole thing. Mac had explained the reasons for his weight gain a million times but Dennis just stared at him and called him ‘disgusting’ and constantly moaned about how ‘unhygienic’ his ‘lifestyle’ was. And really, if Dennis could not see that filling a trash bag full of Chimichangas wasn’t the best food transport system ever then he was missing out. Missing out on food seemed to be a growing problem for Dennis. Mac was used to Dennis skipping a few meals here and there or the odd starvation days when he had special occasion but this was bad even by those standards. There were permanent dark circles under his eyes and Mac was pretty sure Dennis nearly fainted on the walk back to the apartment after work the other night. When he’d leaned on Mac, his skin almost translucent under the harsh streetlamps, he felt like he weighed nothing.

 

Mac had offered to share his food. Denis had just stared at him as if everything about him was repulsive, like Mac’s fat was offensive to him personally. It was horrible, because when people on the street pointed and the Paddy’s customers took notice of him, it meant very little if Dennis wouldn’t even look at him. So he could not be blamed for wanting to hang out with Grant. He was less prone to violence and fire of a night out but his friends did know the best clubs.

Grant described himself as a ‘people person’ and there certainly were a lot of people that seemed to know him. Mac didn’t exactly know what Grant did for a living; it was something similar to Terrell, promoting venues.  He was always introducing Mac to the displeased owners of these deserted looking clubs, deserted apart from whatever group Grant had graced the place with that night. For every sour faced proprietor Grant would confide in a breathy stage whisper whatever sin they had committed against him. One had implemented a no shoes no service policy, one had put up prices after changing suppliers, one had called the police after they discovered the cock fighting ring being run in the basement without his knowledge. Mac had asked what Grant had done after that. Grant had just smiled and commented that the great thing about Philly was there was always another bar to try before asking Mac how big Paddy’s basement was.

 

If it wasn’t for all the Dennis drama, Mac wouldn’t have been happier. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed going out to the clubs and dancing. He always used to be a party boy, right? What happened to him?  Mac started to suspect that perhaps time apart from Dennis was good thing. It helped him reevaluate what he wanted out of life instead of just doing what Dennis wanted. He had been the only one in The Gang who had made an effort to keep things running smoothly while Dennis seemed to be getting angrier all the time.

 

Mac didn’t think things had changed. He didn’t want them to re-tip after all the effort he had put into keeping the bar safe. He wasn’t the one threatening the delicate ecosystem of the group dynamic. That was all on Dennis. His business partner’s foul mood bubbled away in the background with hollow eyes and biting replies. The only time when Dennis wasn’t snapping at Mac and the Gang was when he was sleeping with the customers. Even then Mac sometimes heard Dennis shout for him through the bedroom wall. Which was not fair because Mac still played his part in the Engage Physically part of the D.E.N.N.I.S System. Although recently it seemed his part didn’t work as well with Dennis’ male conquests. Mac’s usual excuse about the giant spider in his room instead of driving the conquest into Dennis bedroom now ended with them wanting to kill the spider for Mac.  He’d speculated to Dennis that maybe they were trying to Demonstrate Value to him before they boned. He never said it again because he worried that the vein on Dennis temple was going to burst.

So things were plodding along until the day Charlie got duct taped to a lamppost.

 

They’d been opening up that morning when a banging noise was heard. Dee had been forced to open the door and had found Charlie in his tattered Green Man suit, his arms and legs bound to the metal pole. After calming Charlie down with a beer or five they got the whole story. Charlie had found a box of Philly’s shirts in a dumpster at the back of the stadium. With subtlety that was almost unheard of from Charlie, he had realised too many people were around to steal the shirts then. He had gone back that night disguised as Green Man to avoid suspicion. However on his way out he had run into the Philly Phrenetic and had been set on by the mascot and a group of rabid fans.

 

“It’s not fair.” Charlie had shouted as they tried to slice off the tape with the lime knife, “He has monopoly on the mascot scene. It stops up-and-comers like Green Man from leading the fans.”

 

The lamp post would not fit through the door so they had had to lie the pole down through the doorway. Unfortunately this meant Charlie was attached by his back lying like a beached turtle as they tried to pry him loose.

 

“There is no way Green Man could lead the fans.” Dennis argued, moving out of the way of Charlie’s flailing right arm they had managed to get free.

 

“He totally could.” Charlie insisted, “Mac back me up here buddy.”

 

Mac tried to get the knife under a large wad of duct tape without stabbing his best friend. The neon green fabric was already covered in blood, grass and, mud stains. Adding lime juice was only going to make Charlie squirm more. It was a good thing Charlie was so skilled with a sewing machine because the costume was cut up pretty bad even before they had tried to get Charlie free.

 

“No way. The Phrenetic is just too popular.”

 

“So what you’re saying.” Charlie said slowly “Is that we need to get rid of the Phrenetic.”

 

“No one is saying that.” Dee said. The peeling of the duct tape had ruined her nails and she wouldn’t stop squawking about it.

 

“Just a little kidnapping.” Charlie pleaded, “Just to put the frighteners on him.”

 

Mac ignored that as he had finally managed to release Charlie from the lamppost. With a ringing thud Charlie leaped up. In his haste he left the remains of the suit behind stuck to the pole like a funky lizard skin.

 

“What the hell Charlie? Those are my boxers!” Mac realised, recognising the black underpants.

 

“Which means they started off as mine.” Dennis added crossing his arms and returning to his beer and bar stool. “Does no one respect my property around here?”

 

“You’ve been stealing my makeup since 9th Grade.” Dee pointed out.

 

Dennis waved Dee’s outrage aside to return to the earlier topic, “Charlie, there is no way you could kidnap the Philly Phrenetic.”

 

“I could.” Charlie insisted, wrapping a beer towel around his neck like a cape. “I can set a trap and lure him out.”

 

“With what?” Dennis asked, his eyes started to light up with visions of cable ties and ski masks.

 

“Like a fake Philly’s rally.”

 

Dennis scoffed, “How would you organize that?”

 

“I bet Grant would help.” Charlie suggested. “He’s always interested in schemes.”

 

Dennis’ interest immediately shut down. Completely ignorant of Dennis’ disinterest Charlie continued. “He would totally help us.”

 

“I don’t want that asshole getting involved in one of our schemes.” Dennis said. “He is invasive and rude and quite frankly bad for business.”

 

Charlie scrunched his face up thoughtfully, “Is this because he’s sleeping with Mac?”

 

Mac was going to kill Charlie. “Goddammit Charlie.” Mac shouted, shooting out his seat in anger. “I am not fucking Grant.”

 

“Really? I mean you do spend a lot of time with him and he’s, you know gay.”

 

“I’m not gay.” Mac insisted. He looked round the bar at the expressions of his friends. Dee’s raised eyebrow, Charlie’s furrowed brow, and Dennis’… well. It was nice to see Dennis smiling at him at least even if he looked five seconds away from revealing the truth of the night Mac got him drunk on tequila.

 

“Grant and I hang out because we are bros.”

 

“How can you be so stupid?” Dennis said emphasising every word as if to a small child. “He. Is. Manipulating. You.”

 

Mac snorted, “Yeah, right…”

 

“For god’s sake Mac he convinced you to put on 30 pounds.” Dennis roared. They were both up from their seats, red faced and screaming.

 

“I like how I look.” Mac insisted. The day before he had realised that Dennis’ old T-shirts were too tight over his glorious bulk and an update to his wardrobe was needed. The guy in Tommy Bahama got a generous tip that day. Mac thought buying one for Dennis would cheer his friend up. The shirt was still crumpled in the corner of the living room and Mac didn’t have the heart to pick it up.

 

“You’re fat as shit.” Dennis argued, “How can you stand to look at yourself?”

 

“I’ve got body positivity.” Mac grinned.

 

“What the hell…”

 

“Oh yeah.” Charlie interrupted. Mac only then realised Charlie and Dee hadn’t even been in the room. They had wisely chosen to drag the lamppost into the street rather than listen to the brewing argument. “That’s the thing where even if society tell you look ugly you don’t care because you like the way you look.”

 

Mac gestured to Charlie, “See, Charlie gets it.”

 

“Charlie is wearing a beer towel soaked in microbrew.” Dennis said “Why are you listening to him.”

 

“You know I wouldn’t mind getting in on this body positivity thing.” Dee nodded contemplatively.

 

“Have you all lost your damn minds?” Dennis stared at them all incredulously. “I’m in the greatest shape of my life; I’m the one who gets to be body positive.”

 

“No.” Mac disagreed, “Society tells you all the time you’re gorgeous whereas it calls us ugly.”

 

“Actually you guys are the ones that call me ugly.” Dee added.

 

“Not important Dee.” Dennis waved his hand impatiently at his sister to shut her up. “I can’t believe you Mac. You were the one going on about things not changing and us re-tipping, and now it’s all cultivating mass and body positivity.”

 

“Yeah. So I can keep order.” Mac argued.

 

“How are you keeping order with all the customers pawing at you?” Dennis scoffed the vein at his temple had started throbbing again.

 

Distantly Mac felt Charlie’s hand gripping his arm. “You’re the one screwing them.”

 

“Because I didn’t want to re-tip.” Dennis said the knuckles of his fist white on the edge of the bar.

 

“What that got to do with…”

 

“You took my role in the group Mac.” Dennis interrupted his voice cracking in a high pitched wail.

 

The gang stared at Dennis the air heavy with apprehension. Dennis eyes were locked on Mac, refusing to let him look away. Something he saw there made him shook his head.

 

“You know what? Fuck you guys. I’m leaving.”

 

After Dennis left the bar no one would even look at Mac.

 

In the confessional the priest sighed. “Is all this necessary?”

 

Mac paused mid flow, “Well yes. How am I supposed to explain what my friends have done to deserve forgiveness if I don’t?”

 

“But you haven’t told me what you’ve done that needs absolution.”

 

“I told you none of this is my fault.”

 

Another long suffering sigh was heard through the grate, “What about that first night, the one you won’t tell me about.”

 

Mac was getting impatient. How long did the priest expect him to sit here? “I told you that was all Dee’s fault. It was her plan that went wrong.”

 

“Then perhaps you should…”

 

“Okay, fine” Mac muttered. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always comments and kudos are much appreciated and I'm here http://pigeonstatueconundrum.tumblr.com/


	4. Mac Saves Paddy's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Mac's homophobia, unreliable narration and the authors inability to write to a deadline and/or write porography  
> Episode references to the Gang get Racist, some of the dialogue is taken verbatim from

Mac didn’t want to tell the priest what had happened the night before they decided to keep Paddy’s as a gay bar. Not that he was, you know, ashamed of his actions, no. It was just that if he didn’t explain what happened properly then the priest was going to get the wrong idea about him. But as the saying went, honesty is next to godliness. Or was that cleanliness, anyway.

 

“Okay, so Dee dragged me into the office and made me help her with her stupid plan.”

 

Mac remembered the uncomfortable closeness of it all. How Paddy’s had been teeming with the unclean masses of Philadelphia. All eyes turned to ogle at Dennis who preened like some Austin novel bitch. Mac had followed Dee into the office just to get away from all that noise and sin.  He needed to get something for the bar; Mac thought idly, something to make a big moral statement to remind them that the way they looked at the barman was chipping away at their immortal souls.

 

“So I think I know I know how we can solve this whole gay mess.”

 

Mac would have usually ignored Dee, or call her a bird, or call her a bird and then ignore her. But at this point he was happy to except any plan, where ever it came from. “Great, How?”

 

“Okay, first we’ve got to start with Dennis” Dee explained. With a plan in action she looked frighteningly like her brother at his most devious, “Can you get him so drunk tonight, tequila, but like a lot of it, enough that maybe he might hurt himself.”

 

That was something Mac could handle, “Sure, No problem”

 

Dee nodded and grabbed her coat. Confused Mac watched her reach for the door handle, “Where are you going?”

 

“I’ve got to talk to a couple of my friends from acting class.” Dee answered. “But seriously. Blackout drunk.” With that she left leaving Mac alone with his queasy stomach. Mac pushed that down and concentrated on the job at hand. It helped to have a goal to follow, even if the orders came from an unexpected quarter. Grinning, Mac set about finding the bottle of high end tequila Dee had hidden where she thought no one would find it.

 

By the time the majority of customers had left, Dennis was already unsteady on his feet. His usually wise policy of not refusing any shots or drinks bought for him by customers had taken its toll. 

Dennis was visibly sweating despite the strict regimen of moisturizer and light foundation Mac knew he’d applied. Mac watched as a bead of sweat trickled from Dennis’s hair line to his neck, collecting in the collar of his tank top. After five shots of tequila, lime and salt, Denis’ bunched shoulder muscles were starting to relax in sloppy inebriation. Mac would be the first to say he could not understand how the new customers could have found Dennis so attractive while he was spinning like a mincing like a top. But in the privacy of his own mind as he poured shot after shot, he could appreciate the still sweaty beauty that was Dennis Reynolds in those small hours.  

 

“Okay.” Mac said as Dennis slammed his sixth shot glass of tequila onto the bar, “So you did the lime first and then the shot. Right?”

 

Dennis shook his head, mouth still pinched from the burn of the alcohol.

“No, no. Look.” He slurred lining up the shot. “You take the salt and then you take the shot”

 

“Okay.” Mac agreed as Dennis tried to discretely spit a lime seed onto the floor.

 

“And then you suck on the lime.”

 

Mac grinned and Dennis nearly dropped shot number seven, “Could you explain it again? I’m not getting it.”

 

“Salt.” Dennis licked a stipe up the side of his palm, Pink tongue lapping at the curve of his thumb. Even as the tequila had blurred his gaze he never broke eye contact from Mac. His gaze fixated on Mac as he bit his lip tasting the reminder of salt left behind from his one solitary shot.

 

“Then you slam it.” Dennis visibly psyched himself up as he aimed the shot into his mouth. He followed it down with a bit of lime, a trail of juice glistening on his chin. Mac grinned and drawn forward as Dennis clutched his head.

 

“Okay, so shot first.” This really was too much fun.

 

Dennis hands were gratifyingly unsteady as he tried to push away the next shot Mac was pushing towards him. His fingertips were clammy and hot as they brushed Mac’s wrist. “oh please, please dude.” He begged as a flood of warmth filled Mac’s belly.

 

“I’m just not getting it.” Mac said innocently. He leaned over the bar conspiratorially and watched as Dennis licked away the piece of lime flesh caught on the full bow of his lip. 

 

“Salt first.” Dennis said. His voice trailing off as his eyelids dropped closed. He seemed to be in a light stupor and Mac was about to leave, his part of whatever Dee’s master plan was completed. Mac was slowly leaning off his stool when the telephone rang. Even from the office its peels were loud and pierced through the wall. Dennis sat up with a start, his wide eyes wiping around like a rag doll in search of the noise.

 

“It’s alright.” Mac soothed, lightly stroking Dennis arm as he got off his stool. “It’s the phone. Stay here.”

 

He pushed tequila shot into Denis’ hand and headed into the office bringing the half empty bottle with him. He snatched the receiver off the cradle, “What?”

 

Dee’s voice on the other end of the line was muffled by the sounds of a crowd and so Mac had trouble understanding her words at first.

 

“Dee, What?”

 

“Plans off.” She shouted, steam rolling over Mac’s noise of indignation.

 

“What the shit Dee? What do you mean the plans off?”

 

“I mean it’s off dick. I couldn’t get,” here she paused and there was the sound of dry retching from the other end of the receiver. Disgusted, Mac pushed the receiver away from his ear and as a result nearly missed the end of the sentence. 

 

“What?”

 

“I couldn’t get a hold of those guys.” Dee snapped.

 

“What guys?”  A smash of glass from the bar distracted Mac. He looked around the door to see Dennis swearing as he kicked drunkenly at the wet shards on the floor.

 

“The ones from my acting class.”

 

“Why would you need..?”

 

Dee’s exasperated sigh was gratingly loud even over the sound of the crowd on the other line, “I was going to get them for the plan.” She explained. “Threaten him with a bit of gay sex so he goes of this whole gay bar thing.”

 

“Jesus Christ Dee.” Mac hissed, “That’s fucked up.”

 

“Well you agreed.” Dee sniffed. Down the line there was jubilant shout from a voice that almost sounded like Charlie.

 

“But not to like, rape.” Mac argued.

 

“Err, no rape.” Dee insisted, “There was no mention of rape. Where did you get rape from?”

 

“You don’t know what these guys are like. Give them half a chance they’ll be all over Dennis.”

 

Dee snorted, “You’re projecting again Mac.”

 

Mac was about to argue the point when Dee interrupted. “Anyway the plans off so it doesn’t matter.”

 

“Why couldn’t you have told me this earlier?” Mac snapped, “Dennis is already blackout drunk. You telling me I did all this work for nothing.”

 

“Yup.”

“Screw you bitch.”

 

“Hey.” Dee said, “I didn’t think you’d actually be able to follow through anyway. Not my fault.”

 

Mac slammed the received back in its cradle, the yellowed plastic cracking slightly from the force. What the hell was she thinking? Mac could totally pull of a plan, he’d gotten Dennis blackout drunk without anyone’s help. Why did he need Dee’s help anyway? Just because she’s failed her end of the plan didn’t mean Mac couldn’t pull through with a Hail Mary at the last moment.

 

What had Dee said, threaten gay sex? Mac looked around the bar in the hope of spotting a suitable candidate. Unfortunately the bar had emptied some time ago. Even Charlie had pissed off to nurse his black eye God knows where. The only people here where Dennis and him.

 

He couldn’t. Could he? It wouldn’t be actually sinning. And even if it was the needs justified the means or something. A smaller white sin to cancel out all the big gay sins that would happen if he didn’t.

 

Mac drained the bottle.

 

Dennis looked up as Mac staggered behind the bar. While Mac had been talking to Dee he’d fallen over and was lying in the pool of spilled tequila. He looked up at Mac with wide guileless eyes.

 

“My hands broken.”

 

Mac wrenched his eyes away from Dennis’. He knelt down unsteadily to inspect the wound. “Dude, how did you…”

 

“Charlie never cleans up around here.” Dennis slurred shoving his palm under Mac’s nose. He took his hand gently. “I must have tripped on something he left on the floor.”

 

“Sure.” Mac offered ignoring the almost spotless floor, “you big baby it’s not ever sprained.”

 

Dennis pouted his eye liquid. “Really hurts Mac.”

 

His hand was sweaty in Macs as he turned it over for his own second medical opinion. Mac got unsteadily to his feet and pulled an unresisting Dennis with him. He tried to concentrate on wiping at the puddle of tequila soaked into the knee of his jeans instead of Dennis’ wide grin. The bar seemed very empty. Mac had never noticed that before while they’d been drinking shots.

 

Dennis was still unsteady on his feet as he leaned against the bar. His eyes were still glazed with too many tequila shots but he managed to follow Mac’s gaze to the empty bar.

 

“..t’s quiet.” He slurred.

 

“Yeah.” Mac agreed rubbing his palms on his jeans where they still tingled.

“I miss…” Dennis started, pausing midsentence lean against the back wall, “miss the quiet.”

 

“Well you wanted Paddy’s as a gay bar dude.” Mac replied. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to adapt follow original plan anyway. Perhaps Dennis would come to the right conclusion on his own.  “If we turned it back we would have more time for, you know, quiet.”

 

Dennis smirked at Mac, his expression worryingly coherent for someone who’d drunken a whole bottle of tequila on his own.  The alcohol in Mac’s own stomach was broiling as his stomach twisted into knots under Dennis’ piercing scrutiny.

 

“All those guys flirting with you all the time.” Mac continued doggedly. “That’s going to get old.”

 

Dennis rolled his eyes and poured himself another shot.

 

“And these guys, they’re animals. On and on at you 24/7.” Mac argued. “They won’t take no for an answer until your ass is there’s.”

 

“You’d rather,” Dennis paused as he shakenly brought the tequila to his lips. “You’d rather my ass was yours.”

 

“That’s not what meant.” Mac spluttered watching the bobbing of his throat as the shot went down with a grimace. “You’re going to spend all you time being threatened with gay sex.”

 

“That’s kind of rapey, dude.”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Dennis blinked, his eyelashes shuddering in a confused sweep. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” Mac insisted, pouring and downing his own shot with shaking hands.  

 

He considered Dennis lips, swollen and red from salt and tequila.  He had to think about this tactically, military like. If Rambo had to snog a guy, how would he do it? Mac gripped the edge of the shelf behind him, the jab of the wood into his palm grounding as Dennis blinked lazily at him. 

 

“Dee was right,” Mac said, “you aren’t attracted to men you just like the attention.”

 

“You’re agreeing with Dee now.” Dennis scoffed. “What does she know?”

 

“You aren’t gay, just really, really…” he trailed off and Dennis swayed towards him, unsteady on his feet. Mac shot out a hand to rest Dennis against the bar, his hand brushing against relaxed muscles under his shirt.

 

“When it comes down to it dude.” Mac insisted, cursing the unmanly pitch of his voice, “You wouldn’t want to be fucked by a guy.”

Whatever Dennis’ slurred reply was going to be it was lost to the ages. With one last white knuckled squeeze of the shelf, Mac forced his hand forward to grip the back Dennis’ sweat dampened nape.  Dennis’ half formed syllable cut off by the chink of teeth against teeth as Mac pressed their mouths together. Its okay if it’s a bad kiss, Mac insisted to himself as a wave of panic made his hand clench in Dennis’ shirt, It’s okay because he’s not supposed to enjoy this. Emboldened he moved a little closer, chasing the un-Dennis like whimper coming from the other man.  No one is supposed to enjoy this; the little voice in the back of Mac’s head reminded him. There was a hand in Mac’s hair he realised distantly. Distracted, he ran his tongue along the seam of Dennis’ lips, the lingering taste of salt a complementary sharp burst on his taste buds.

 

He is tugged back, hair follicles singing with the pain of tugging dextrous fingers. So focused on the lips that had been under his clumsy ministrations it takes another sharp for Mac to notice Dennis’ insistence for his attention.

 

“Look at me.”  Dennis commanded, repeating the demand until his words broke through the hypnotic movement of his lip that kept Mac leaning forward.

 

“What.” Mac muttered, his earlier belligerence returning as he refused to acknowledge the red flush staining his cheeks.  

 

Dennis reached out his free hand towards Mac’s mouth. His hand was steady, the shakiness from the alcohol conspicuously absent.  It was Mac’s knees that felt unsteady as fingers gripped the side of his face. Mac dared not look away as Dennis watch the path of his thumb against his cheek with a mildly curious expression, the lazy press of his nail tracing an execrable path that increased the fluttering of his pulse. Dennis’ little finger pressed firmly against the throbbing vein in his neck.

 

“So.” Dennis mused. “You think that guys will want to kiss me if we keep Paddy’s as a gay bar.”

 

“Yes.” Mac said, his sigh of relief tickling Dennis’ palm. “This is what I’ve..”

 

“I don’t see it.” Dennis interrupted; his thumb just brushing the corner of Mac mouth in the most casual of touches. “Kissing guys doesn’t matter. Kissing doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“That meant nothing?” Mac asked in a weakened under the intensity of Dennis’ stare. How could he be this sober when Mac felt like he was about to keel over? He looked away.

 

“Oh no baby boy, no.” Dennis soothed, roughly pushing Mac chin back up to remain eye contact.  “Well, it was nothing special, I’ve kissed other guys. Experimentation here and there in college. You wouldn’t know.”

 

Mac wouldn’t know. He didn’t like being reminded of those lonely years of nothing but Charlie’s lacklustre weed and Dennis voice from the payphone to keep him company. It was hard to think how Dennis’ life hadn’t been on pause like his.

 

“Yeah. Well it’s a sin anyway.” Mac maintained seeking for firmer conversational footing.

“Of course.” Dennis said conciliatorily “Of course, I’m just saying the thought of being kissed by guys isn’t going to put me off of this gay bar thing.”

 

Mac was stupid. It was obvious now the plan was a failure from the start. He shouldn’t have let Dee talk him into this. It was all that bitches fault he was in this mess. If he had to look at Dennis any longer he was going to throw up all this tequila all over his stupid, perfect…

 

“I mean it would take a lot more than that to convince me it was a bad idea.”

 

Mac paused his mental stream of panic, “What.”

  

“Oh.” Dennis smiled sweetly, his thumb toying against his cheek. “A lot more than a kiss, Mac. I’d need _a lot_ more than a kiss.”

 

Brilliant, there was hope to convince him yet. “Like what.”

 

Dennis grinned back, “A blowjob.”

 

The panic rose in Mac’s throat like bile. He bit his lip, tasting lingering taste of lime put there by Dennis’ absent kiss. He felt the tug of Dennis fingers in his hair as he pulled him back for a sharp kiss. It was an honour, Mac reminded himself, to be kissed by Dennis. After all the years one removed from the action via sex tapes, listening from the couch and once in the same tent, Mac knew that Dennis was good at sex. The weakness in his knees, the fluttering in his stomach and the shortness of his breath were just side effects of technique rather than down to any personal reaction on Mac’s part.

 

“A blowjob.” Mac asked, his mouth going dry.

 

 Dennis reached down with proprietary smirk to palm Mac’s straining erection. “That’s if you think you’re up to it.”

 

“I can do it.” Mac said breathless and unaware of anything but the press of Dennis against him. A sharp push and Mac knees flare with pain when they hit the bar floor. Mac tried to find his balance with limbs that had started to tremble under Dennis scrutiny. The neon light on the back of the bar cast lean shadows on Dennis face as loomed over him. The enormity of what he was about to do struck Mac to the marrow. His breath hitched and fear made him unable to look away from the imperious gaze above him.  It could have been a trick of the light but something seemed to soften in Dennis’ expression. With inexplicable gentleness he reached out to cup Mac cheek. He felt his eyes flutter involuntarily closed from the benediction.

 

“You alright.” Dennis murmured.

 

Mac nodded. He looked up at Dennis with innocent eyes and bit his lip, the frantic bravado he’d managed to salvage in the mad scramble to fulfil the plan felt all too fragile under Dennis’ gaze.  Dennis absently stroked Mac’s jumping pulse with beatific smile that Mac felt himself return without a thought.

 

“Yes.” Mac breathed his mouth dry for the want of it.

 

Mac distantly noticed the trembling in his fingers was under control as he reached towards his zip. He refused to let inexperience make him hesitate as he released Dennis’ member from underwear already damp with flattering pre-cum.  Taking heart from Dennis choked of gasp, Mac let his tongue taste the tip.

 

“Gently.” Dennis gasped as Mac’s teeth grazed him when him took him into his mouth. Mac heard a distant thud as Dennis head hit the back of the bar. Mac’s smirk fell away as he saw Dennis reaction, his ministrations halting at the sight above him.

 

His blown pupils were unwaveringly staring down at the sight of Mac’s pink mouth against his most sensitive place. Dennis threw his head back, the long line of this throat glittering in the neon. Something in Mac ached to lath the sweat away from that taught column. Everything about Dennis was enticingly hard, Mac noticed as he found his rhythm again. His nipples and cock and muscles strained under Mac’s attention. Even with Dennis almost hoarse with shouting it was not enough.

 

With a resounding shout Dennis came his eye unable to look away. He gave a lost little whimper as Mac swallowed his seed. Mac rubbed his jaw, enjoying the reminding ache as his pulled himself up right.

 

He smiled eagerly at Dennis, “Was that good enough.” He asked; suddenly shy at the sight of what he had done.

 

“Yeah.” Dennis breathed, “yeah that was good enough, Mac.”

 

“So you agree we’ll put Paddy’s back.”

 

If Mac didn’t know better he would say Dennis looked angry. “Put it back.”

 

“You said you needed convincing.” Mac reminded him, panic entering his voice. The plan can’t fail he thought his chest aching at the thought of this meaning nothing. “Didn’t I convince you?”

 

Dennis seemed to be steeling himself to say something. His posture tensed as gripped the edge of the bar. But after looking at Mac for a moment he lost his train of thought, only able to distantly return Mac’s open smile.

 

With one last look he resolved something. Dennis pushed himself unsteadily away from Mac and headed towards the exit.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Dennis barely bothered to look over his shoulder as he reached the door. “I’m going out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  

Mac’s startled reply was cut off by the slam of the door. Suddenly exhausted, Mac felt the weight of the alcohol and stresses of the day come over him. He didn’t even have the energy to drag himself to Charlie, let alone home. Mac settled himself down in the chair in the office and tried to force himself to ignore his reeling thoughts and fears. His cock still straining against the seam of his jeans.   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter. all comments and kudos etc are much appreciated. As always I'm here if you want to chat - http://pigeonstatueconundrum.tumblr.com/
> 
> sorry for the delay in this chapter, I moved house and saw Mad Max.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised I was going to write this a while back. I hope you enjoy it and that it is worth the wait.
> 
> as always comments are much appreciated and I'm here -> http://pigeonstatueconundrum.tumblr.com/


End file.
